


New York Series Stand Alones

by Halfspell



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-06
Updated: 2008-06-06
Packaged: 2018-12-27 12:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12081363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfspell/pseuds/Halfspell
Summary: This is a bunch of stand alone stories in a more traditional writing style.  Mostly, they're light hearted pieces, silly pieces and steamy pieces.  Fun stuff, I hope.





	New York Series Stand Alones

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

APRIL FOOLS  
  
I love my desk. I love the fact that it's big and huge and an impressive piece of furniture. I love that it's a partner's desk, with a space for Justin across from me, where he can come and sit down or sprawl and annoy the fuck out of me by playing footsies and rifling through my paperwork or just by being himself. I love that i can see him work from here. I love this desk. It makes me feel powerful. In control. Nothing can disrupt me here, as I rule over my little advertising empire.  
  
I know, I'm full of regal shit, but it's the power of the desk. Besides, Justin, looking like a paint tornado, coming over and sitting across from me, totally drains away any King Kinney fantasies I happen to be having. He may be my prince, but regal, he isn't. Like today. Ratty tshirt, clingy grey pants that I love (that really have seen better days) and a plastic cup full of something he was stirring with a plastic spoon. I assumed it was paint. And he was eyeing the stuff critically.  
  
"What do you think?" he asked after a while and lifted the spoon, so that something rose colored sort of dribbled off. It landed back into the cup with a plop.  
  
"I think it's fucking disgusting. It's the consistancy of come. The color's nice, though."  
  
"I wanted to try a new technique. Plastering the color onto the canvas instead of painting. Like spackle?" He beat at the stuff in the cup furiously for a moment, then lifted the spoon again to sniff at it carefully.  
  
"That's not all paint then?" God, he did such gross things sometimes. I know I was staring at him like he just pissed on my shoes or something. He just shook his head. "It's the wrong consistancy, then."  
  
"You think so?"  
  
"Yeah. It's not thick enough. It'll run." He just made a thoughtful face and popped the pink covered spoon into his mouth. And swallowed a mouthful of the pink crap. For a second, I couldn't believe what I just saw. And he continued to look thoughtful in the face of my horror.  
  
"Justin! Have you lost your fucking mind! You're eating paint!" So I lunged across the desk like a freak. Sue me. But my partner was sitting across from me and calmly eating pink spackle. Paper went flying, my phone tumbled off the desk and I ended up sprawled on my stomach with what felt like twenty pens sticking in me and nose to nose with him. I snatched the cup of shit and reflexively looked down.  
  
Where a slice of strawberry innocently sat floating.  
  
In what smelled like yogurt.  
  
"April fools," he whispered, kissed my nose and ran like hell, laughing like a lunatic the as he fled.  
  
"You better run, you asshole!" I bellowed and scrambled off the desk to chase after him. 

  



End file.
